


with every new dream, an old one dies

by eloboosting



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Part character study, gdi dade stop tilting off the face of the planet, part feelings vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:38:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5861896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloboosting/pseuds/eloboosting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People don't remember you unless you win. Too bad Eojin's not all that great with the winning thing—not when it matters.</p><p>Sanghyeok though? Sanghyeok's got that shit down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with every new dream, an old one dies

**Author's Note:**

> For the uninitiated, Faker is the Unkillable Demon King and dade is The General, and according to every yaoi manga I’ve ever read, “demon king” is just another term for pushy tsundere bottom, so, y’know, I wrote ~8k of dade feelings. Inspired by [this moment](https://youtu.be/Mm9E38gCHjo?t=2m25s) in their event match where dade dies from laughter and Faker is forever embarrassed.
> 
> In a nutshell: fuck pacing and fuck realism. The timeline for this is actually mostly correct, except SKT T1 went on their vacation in spring instead of summer. Oh well.

The thing is, Eojin doesn’t know Sanghyeok.

The closest they get are the polite greetings they exchange in the waiting rooms and the semi-scripted barbs during trash-talk videos. They share mutual friends through their teammates, but that just leaves them hanging around awkwardly in the background while their more social friends carry the conversation.

Back when Eojin was still on Ozone, he’d at least had _Faker_ ’s attention. They’d been continuously compared as the casters started playing up the rivalry between their teams, gaining reputations as assassin-playing midlaners striving to hard-carry their teams out of obscurity. Back then, he’d had the gall to think that Faker might think of dade as a goal to beat—that his ID might weigh on Faker’s mind as more than just a side note.

But after 2013 Worlds, things become clear.

Faker’s crowned as the best midlaner—best _player_ —in the world; dade’s unmasked as an arrogant imposter with a pitifully small champion pool.

Eojin watches from the crowd as SKT T1 K raise their newly won trophy above their heads, trying his hardest not to be overcome with jealousy.

(He fails.)

-

During their publicity stunt of an event show match, they finally manage to have a conversation without the same level of awkwardness of their in-between game chats; no averted eye contact, no phone shields, no uncomfortable silences. They talk, and Eojin is surprised to find that Sanghyeok actually knows who he is—surprised that he actually _likes_ talking to Sanghyeok, finds him charming in some weirdly adorable way.

The casters are more surprised to learn that they aren’t friends already, as if they expected every Korean pro to hang out after matches and magically have each other’s phone numbers (though honestly, the number of them is few enough for that to be feasible.) They add each other as friends on the League client while Hyunwoo jokes about riding their coattails into high challenger, until the production crew eventually shoo them off the set for the first shot.

It’s a polite gesture forced under the circumstances—it’d be rude for Sanghyeok not to offer when the cameras are filming their every move. Eojin doesn’t expect a follow-through, he’s certainly not going to make the first move; it’s enough that he’ll have an alert to let him know when solo queue will become that much more difficult to climb.

Which is why he’s all the more surprised when Sanghyeok messages him one day while he’s waiting in queue.

            [14:54] SKT T1 Faker: duo?

More than that, it’s an _invite_. Eojin stares at the words on his screen dumbly, double-checking to make sure he’s reading the name correctly, before promptly cancelling his queue and replying.

            [14:56] 삼성갤럭시 dade: sure

The notification to join a pre-made team pops up on his screen, and he accepts it with some lingering confusion. At least he’s guaranteed to have one good teammate on his side.  
  
            [14:57] SKT T1 Faker: I’ll sup, you adc, k?

Or not.  
  
            [14:57] 삼성갤럭시 dade: no  
            [14:57] 삼성갤럭시 dade: no  
            [14:57] 삼성갤럭시 dade: I don’t adc  
            [14:58] SKT T1 Faker: don’t worry, I’ll carry you   
            [14:58] SKT T1 Faker: I’m the #1 blitz

Eojin doesn’t know what to say to that, because they’ve played together in solo queue before and Sanghyeok is pretty damn terrible at support. But he’s already accepted the invitation to duo, and it seems a little rude to refuse. Fortunately, Hyukkyu must also be waiting for his queue to start because he peeks over at his computer.

“Oh, no, don’t let him support.” He grabs Eojin’s keyboard, typing furiously, leaving Eojin to continue to bask in his dumbfounded stupor.

            [15:02] 삼성갤럭시 dade: it’s Hyukkyu  
            [15:02] 삼성갤럭시 dade: don’t troll Eojin, he needs the LP  
            [15:03] 삼성갤럭시 dade: it’ll be all your fault if he falls to diamond  
            [15:04] SKT T1 Faker: he can climb back ez  
            [15:04] 삼성갤럭시 dade: not if you sink it too low  
            [15:04] SKT T1 Faker: play with us then  
            [15:04] 삼성갤럭시 dade: TT  
            [15:04] 삼성갤럭시 dade: I don’t have enough strength  
            [15:05] 삼성갤럭시 dade: to carry you both on my back  
            [15:05] SKT T1 Faker: ㅋㅋㅋ  
            [15:05] SKT T1 Faker: fine, we’ll top/jungle then  
            [15:05] 삼성갤럭시 dade: I hope we queue on to different sides  
            [15:05] 삼성갤럭시 dade: feed me please

The queue screen pops up on both their computers then, and Hyukkyu finally returns his keyboard as they both accept the game. They end up on the same side, with Sanghyeok in the captain’s slot. Eojin fears for their bans—he does want to maintain his challenger ranking but Sanghyeok seems like he’s looking to troll.

“I didn’t know you guys talked,” Hyukkyu says casually. “I didn’t even know you were friends.”

“Honestly,” Eojin says, haphazardly locking in Kassadin and wondering if he’s really going to be forced into top. The other people in the lobby are already protesting Sanghyeok’s heavy-handed insistence that the two _professional_ midlaners play out of position. “I didn’t know either.”

Hyukkyu laughs. “But you’re playing with him?” he asks. “How courageous.”

“I think he’s trying to get back at me for our 1v1 matches,” Eojin says.

“Nah.” Hyukkyu’s locked in Jinx, so at least _he’s_ looking to put in some effort. “He cares too much about his ranking, he wouldn’t purposefully throw. He probably just wants to have some fun.”

“Isn’t winning fun enough?” Eojin asks. Sanghyeok’s grabbed Nidalee, summoners already set to smite and flash, and the other two players in the lobby have finally stopped complaining, filling for the leftover roles.

            [15:10] SKT T1 Faker: I was hoping you might branch out of your champion pool  
            [15:10] SKT T1 Faker: but I guess lane switching is a baby step for you  
            [15:11] 삼성갤럭시 dade: at least kass is meta  
            [15:11] 삼성갤럭시 dade: it’ll give us a shot at winning  
            [15:11] SKT T1 Faker: lol meta  
            [15:11] SKT T1 Faker: dw I’ll hard carry  
            [15:11] SKT T1 Faker: watch me hit every one of these spears

There’s nothing to prove, Eojin has no doubt Sanghyeok can hit every one of his skill shots on any champion. But still, he plays along with the bragging because he enjoys the bravado and teasing.

            [15:12] 삼성갤럭시 dade: I bet you miss the first one  
            [15:12] SKT T1 Faker: lol please  
            [15:12] SKT T1 Faker: let me choose your next champ if I do  
            [15:13] 삼성갤럭시 dade: only if you let me choose yours if you don’t  
            [15:13] SKT T1 Faker: you’re on  
            [15:13] SKT T1 Faker: hope you’re good at Teemo

The thing is, Eojin’s next best position after mid is top—so he’s not exactly uncomfortable with the situation. It does feel weird to be relegated because of a duo partner, but in the end, Eojin’s expertise is in team fights, and where he farms up in the beginning isn’t all that important.

Five minutes into the game, Sanghyeok starts spamming pings on his tower, his icon on the minimap loping the long way around toward his lane. Eojin’s never going to say no to a gank, so he dutifully shoves the lane up, pushing the opponent Malphite under tower. A spear comes hurtling from the other side, tagging Malphite at the end.

            [15:20] SKT T1 Faker (Nidalee): 1/1 gg

They both collapse on the Malphite, with Sanghyeok escaping in the end with first blood under his belt.

            [15:22] 삼성갤럭시 dade (Kassadin): nice ks  
            [15:22] SKT T1 Faker (Nidalee): 2/2

Fifteen minutes later, Sanghyeok’s bounced by another three times, with Eojin snagging two kills for himself out of the lot. Sanghyeok’s completely hit his stride, hitting spear after spear like a skill-shot robot.

            [15:32] SKT T1 Faker (Nidalee): 9/9  
            [15:32] 삼성갤럭시 Deft (Jinx): ?  
            [15:32] 삼성갤럭시 Deft (Jinx): are you jungling or are you duoing top  
            [15:33] SKT T1 Faker (Nidalee): just babysitting  
            [15:33] SKT T1 Faker (Nidalee): our kass is so bad  
            [15:33] 삼성갤럭시 dade (Kassadin): get out of my lane and stop stealing my CS  
            [15:33] 삼성갤럭시 Deft (Jinx): he saw you hit your spears, now get your ass down here  
            [15:34] SKT T1 Faker (Nidalee): zzz  
            [15:35] SKT T1 Faker (Nidalee): okok

Sanghyeok keeps track of all his spears until the end, and his hit ratio ends up being ridiculous (even as he continues to throw them at the fountain while they destroy the nexus). Eojin has no problem admitting he was hard carried this game—it's solo queue, there's very little pride on the line—and it’s been a while since he’d played such an enjoyable game. He doesn’t even really care that he’ll be playing Teemo next game, poisonous and toxic as he is, because it just shifts all responsibility of winning on Sanghyeok.

“You’re laughing,” Hyukkyu says, not unlike an accusation. “After a solo queue game?”

Eojin shrugs. “We won.”

He does feel a little weird to be so happy over something so miniscule, but it’s probably the first time in a while since he’s genuinely enjoyed playing League for the sake of the game. Where climbing the ladder was something more than practicing mechanics and proving his worth to his team.

- 

Somehow or another, they end up getting lunch. They actually end up getting multiple lunch _es_ , to be precise.

The gaming houses are all clustered around the same area, so they take breaks together in nearby cafes and restaurants—and other than the first time where they’d sat across from each other and awkwardly stared into the distance while trying to make small talk, they manage conversation well enough.

It starts with League, about patch and champion changes, shifts in the meta, the ever-shifting cesspool of solo queue. But they eventually open up about their lives, about their hopes for the future and the childhoods they gave up to pursue their dreams, about the families they left behind and the odd friendships they’ve formed with their teammates.

Even when their teams are in the same group in the round of sixteen in the summer split, when Samsung Blue bests SKT T1 K 2-0, Sanghyeok meets up with him with minimal bitterness.

Before he knows it, Sanghyeok is a friend. A friend outside of the chaos of the Samsung house; someone who understands the value of silence, who can make Eojin laugh with his terrible jokes, who makes Eojin’s heart hurt whenever he sees him.

Before he knows it, the summer season bleeds into the playoffs and SKT T1 K is eliminated from the round of eight by Samsung White. Both SKT T1 teams disappear on a vacation to Jeju Island while Samsung Blue ends up playing in the finals on the beaches of Busan.

And his one consolation: at least Sanghyeok isn’t there to see him lose.

Eojin watches while the KT Arrows lift their trophy above their heads, watches as Byungkwon’s awarded the season MVP award (that would have been _his_ ). It burns—losing always does, but he manages to swallow the bitterness and strengthen his resolve.

He’ll prepare better for Worlds—it’s the only thought that keeps him going.

-

The tiebreaker for the second seed to Worlds between K and White is a brutal stomp.

Eojin catches Sanghyeok after the series, sending a quick apology to his teammates through their groupchat and promising to meet up with them to celebrate later. He takes Sanghyeok to a bar instead, buys him drinks and watches his cheeks flush an ugly, blotchy red.

"They played better," Sanghyeok finally says, and then with a little incredulity, "I got solo-killed."

"Three times," Eojin agrees. "The commentators were surprised; they’re hailing Wonseok as the god-killer."

“Right.” Sanghyeok chokes out a laugh. "Should I be flattered that I'm some mystical measuring stick for midlaners? That beating me is some gateway to fame and fortune?"

Eojin doesn't have an answer to either question, doesn't want to voice the part of his mind that sees Sanghyeok as a goal to be surpassed—that Sanghyeok is the best midlaner, arguably the best _player_ to have touched League so far. Instead, he just places a hand on Sanghyeok's shoulder and pours him another glass of soju.

Sanghyeok eyes it blearily. "I don't even like drinking," he mumbles, but swallows it down all the same. "It gives me a headache.”

"It'll help you forget the disappointment," Eojin says with the weight of experience. “Just try to avoid the hangover in the morning.”

Sanghyeok laughs. “Maybe the hangover will hurt less than losing.”

Eojin watches Sanghyeok tip back another glass and feels the liquid courage of alcohol burning his heart. “I never understood,” he says. “Why you messaged me.”

“Messaged you?” Sanghyeok blinks at him. “What do you mean?”

“After the event match,” he says. “You could’ve just ignored me, but you chose to—you wanted to be friends.”

“Oh.” Sanghyeok pauses, then sighs. "We’d hit a slump, and I thought—well, who could understand better what disappointment feels like?” He shakes his head and laughs. “You know exactly how bitter it is to fall from glory, how it hurts to let down everyone around you, how tempting it is to give up."

The Season 3 World Championship, with all his aspirations and wants, is still a sore spot for Eojin, and he nods readily enough. Sanghyeok's crash isn't on quite the same magnitude of stage, but it probably hurts just as much. Being last year's world champion, being _undefeated_ through the winter season—it's a brutal difference to get thoroughly crushed the next year. “But you learn to move on—to find the strength to try again.”

Sanghyeok closes his eyes, leans his head against Eojin's shoulder. "Good luck at Worlds," he says. "You deserve this."

And Eojin’s not sure what possesses him, but he can't help himself when he turns to cup Sanghyeok's face in his hands and kiss him.

He’s never kissed someone before, has only heard stories from his teammates and watched how actors do it in movies and porn. And maybe this current moment is a terrible time to give away his first, when he's drunk and Sanghyeok's both drunk and hurting off a loss.

But Sanghyeok's lips are warm under his, and the knot of anxiety in his stomach slowly unravels. He’s not sure what the next move is, whether he should try opening his mouth or pulling one of those stupid tricks Cheonju keeps bragging about, but Sanghyeok seems content to keep his face pressed against Eojin’s, his hands making their way to Eojin’s cheek before softly pushing him away.

“That—” he says, cheeks flushed an even darker red. “You should go.”

“I should go,” Eojin repeats. Well, that wasn’t the response he’d been expecting. “I’m sorry,” he continues dumbly. “I didn’t—I don’t know what I was thinking. I was being selfish.”

“No,” Sanghyeok says. “It wasn’t bad. I just—I need time.” He moves a hand to cover his mouth, and Eojin watches it with morbid fascination. “I didn’t expect this.”

Eojin blinks. “Oh.”

“I need to focus,” Sanghyeok says. “Can we hold this until after regionals?”

“Uh,” Eojin says, unsure how he’s found himself in this mess of a situation. “Yes?” Sanghyeok smiles at him and he blinks again. “I’ll, uh, go then?”

At Sanghyeok’s nod, he rises uncertainly to his feet and walks out of the bar. He wonders a little about the ethics of leaving a minor alone in a bar, but then he calls Cheonju, who gleefully lists the address of the bar they’re currently crashing. At least he’s drunk and about to get drunker, and hopefully the alcohol will wipe his memory.

- 

SKT T1 K loses to Najin White Shield in the Korean Regional Finals; Jeonghyeon announces his retirement and both Eonyeong and Gwangjin leave the team soon after.

Sanghyeok sneaks him into the empty apartment of K, and they make out on one of the bunk beds. Eojin’s ninety-nine percent sure Sanghyeok’s also never kissed anyone before, and they spend the time trying to figure out the point of tongues and appropriate places to put their hands.

He gets kicked out of the apartment exactly forty-five minutes in, smiling stupidly at the mess he’s made of Sanghyeok’s hair and the flush he’s brought to Sanghyeok’s cheeks.

They meet up in these scattered, isolated moments throughout the next few weeks, until Worlds sneaks up on them and Eojin finds himself with mere days left before he flies off to Singapore for the group stages.

“Good luck,” Sanghyeok says. “Beat White for me.”

-

White rips them apart at Worlds, shredding through all of Eojin's bravado and confidence in one fell sweep. Hyukkyu and Dayoon are in tears by the end and Eojin can feel his own pain and frustration bleed at the edges of his eyes—it hurts so much more than last year, to see his chances ripped away by friends, by his old team.

Because—because it could have been him.

There’s no other word to describe their loss other than _outplayed_ , and White truly deserves their win. He passes his jacket along with the rest of his pride to Wonseok and bows in front of the crowd as he swallows his defeat. It’s like a delayed repeat of last year; dade can’t adapt to the new patch fast enough and doesn’t have the champion pool to make an impact, PawN’s a better midlaner than him: more consistent, more versatile, more deadly—just like Faker.

But all the same, echoing through his head like a broken record, he can’t help thinking that instead of Wonseok, it could have been _him_. If he had played better last winter season, if he had managed to adapt to last year’s World’s meta, if his mentality had been stronger and they hadn’t switched mid-laners—

The thought is like picking at a healing scar, a fruitless endeavor that only bleeds out more exhaustion, but he’s masochistic and weak enough to indulge the habit.

 

Cheonju takes him aside after the match, and Eojin can see Gwanhyung and Seungbin field Dayoon and Hyukkyu from the corner of his eye. It's frustrating to be grouped with the kids in this respect, but he lacks the energy to shoo his assigned caretaker away.

"Your mentality is trash," Cheonju says, tone kind but straight to the point. "You tilted off the face of the planet."

He smiles weakly. "At least I didn't cry."

"Don't think I didn't see the tears when you passed your jacket on." Cheonju pats him on the back. "You did well."

"Not well enough," he says. "Or we'd be the ones holding the trophy."

"Maybe if your nickname was the King of Summer instead."

It’s a weak joke, but Eojin appreciates the effort, anyway.

“Next year, then,” he says. “We’ll try harder.”

-

Wonseok is the first one to kiss the trophy—he’s the youngest, the only one who hasn’t touched a championship trophy—while the rest of White look on like doting parents.

 _He should’ve been on the stage in the spotlight_ , his mind whispers as he and his teammates clap and cheer for their friends from the audience. _Or maybe this is how far he’s destined to go._

Seungbin thanks SKT T1 for scrimming with them to prepare for Worlds, and Eojin can't feel anything but empty resignation. Maybe he should feel betrayed that Sanghyeok played a part in helping White beat Blue, maybe the bitterness flooding his mouth would be unbearable if Eojin had any of the passion and fire left to care.

 

Samsung Blue doesn’t get a next year; neither does Samsung White. KESPA announces the dissolution of sister teams and Samsung decides their players are still only worth the rookie contracts they’d been signed to the past few years, so he and the rest of his friends leave.

The journalists and the casters call it the Korean Exodus; Eojin calls it running away. 

- 

Sanghyeok looks almost guilty when he sees him next. "Our coach planned the scrims," he says like an apology. “I’m sorry about Worlds.”

"It's fine," Eojin says. He can't begrudge a team for wanting to scrim high-level opponents, anyway, and K has always had a more electric bond with White than Blue. "They outplayed us. And I understand, especially with the roster changes—”

He stops, and wonders how much it hurt for Sanghyeok to lose three of his closest friends to bureaucracy—imagines how it's going to feel for him to separate from his own makeshift family of three years.

"Yeah," Sanghyeok smiles a little emptily. "Well with the sister team announcement it might be for the best. Have you figured out what you’re doing?"

"Uh," he says, and bites his lip, thinks about how he's going to break the news. He places a hand over Sanghyeok's and breathes out a sigh. "I accepted an offer." He stares at their entwined hands and wonders if he's making a terrible mistake. "I'm going to China."

Sanghyeok's hand tenses in his own, but he doesn't pull away, so Eojin counts it as a win. He doesn't dare look up—doesn't want to see the betrayal on Sanghyeok's face.

"Oh," Sanghyeok says flatly. "I see."

"Yeah," he says awkwardly. He dares a glance up to find Sanghyeok intensely focused on their hands as well. “A lot of my teammates were talking about it, and after White won Worlds—"

"Which team?" Sanghyeok interrupts.

"WE," he says, before adding, "Academy."

He can feel the judgment radiating from Sanghyeok, but it's not like Eojin can protest. He’s not even joining the main roster of a team—he’s judging himself at this point, honestly.

He tries for a laugh, giving a half-hearted chuckle that immediately falls flat. “I’m not really looking forward to moving, but at least the money’s good.”

"Are you really just giving up?" Eojin looks up to meet Sanghyeok’s blank eyes, and he _knows_ he's made a mistake but it's too late. He's dug his own grave and left no way to escape.

"I leave in a few weeks," he says instead. “I—” He’s thought through this conversation thousands of times, but even now, he’s at a loss—the words he’s prepared seem so weak. _It hurts too much to try and fail. I’m sorry for being a coward. Sorry that I can’t live up the expectations you and everyone else have of me—_

“I still want to spend my time here with you.”

Sanghyeok laughs a little, but it sounds forced. “You sound like you’re dying,” he says. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

His words ring hollow, though, and Eojin’s sure neither of them truly believes any of this will be fine.

-

China is oppressively different; the sky is a perpetual cloud of polluted gray, the language is as harsh as it is complex, and the food is either too spiced or too oily, turning his stomach and leaving him nauseous. He’s shuffled into a room with Hyeongseok while their new teammates mingle around in an effort to help them move in and try to be friendly. They only have one translator, though, which means he and Hyeongseok have to take turns talking, leading to the world’s most uncomfortable lapses in conversation.

But even with the language barrier, he can read the resentment in his new teammates’ eyes. He doesn’t fault them—he and Hyeongseok are getting paid exponentially more and their presence bumps two starters down to subs. The administration is bending over backwards in an effort to ease the transition for them, trying to piece together infrastructure that their original, all-Chinese roster apparently didn’t warrant.

  

He learns that not everything is terrible, though; China allows for freedoms that he would have balked at if he were still on Samsung. He can experience what a normal life might be like—can live out a lost childhood where his biggest worry isn’t losing his job or paying taxes or supporting his family.

His new teammates are preoccupied with one perk in particular, which he learns of one night when they take him and Hyeongseok out to their favorite bar. It’s after one of their first victories in the season, and the management lets them loose for the night, altogether too pleased for a win they just eked out.

They’re on their fourth toast, Hyeongseok doing the honors in his newly perfected Mandarin as they clink their glasses together, when a girl approaches their table, a shy smile on her face.

“I’m a huge fan,” she says. “Could I maybe get a picture with you all?”

“Only if you drink with us.” The smirk on XY’s face can only be described as a leer, but the girl seems more excited than disgusted at the prospect and she promises to bring her friends along. She quickly scuttles back to her table, giggling behind her hands, while XY turns back to them. “Dibs.”

Eojin raises an eyebrow. “On what?”

“Really, you need to ask?” XY’s leer only widens. “On who gets to fuck her.”

Eojin nearly spits out his drink, but thankfully Hyeongseok is just as confused to cover for him. “You fuck fans?”

“Well, yeah, it’s one of the better parts of being a pro,” Candy says. “Can’t you in Korea? I always thought you’d all be drowning in it.”

Hyeongseok shrugs. “Nah, management would never allow it.” Their teammates exchange glances at that and Hyeongseok continues, “I have a girlfriend, anyway.”

They turn their gazes over to Eojin and XY asks, almost incredulous, “Well, have _you_ ever fucked a girl then?”

Eojin flushes scarlet. Because, well, no, he hasn’t, he’d been pretty busy with his… _thing_ with Sanghyeok, and he’s never had a girlfriend before. “No,” he mumbles out, and his teammates’ eyes widen.

“Shit,” XY says, quickly turning his head—the girl is nearly back to their table with her friends—before leaning in closer to Eojin. “You can have her, then. I didn’t realize you were so hard up.”

And the thing is—the girl’s pretty cute, and Eojin doesn’t really know what he and Sanghyeok are even doing at this point, because they’ve kissed, but it’s not a _relationship_ , because neither of them is gay, even when Eojin feels so damn jittery and _happy_ when he’s with Sanghyeok, heart pumping double-time and stupidly intimate things on his mind like _love_ —

Eojin likes girls, has thought about having sex with girls, and this is such an easy opportunity to grab. “Okay,” he says, because he’s a little drunk and incredibly stupid, because he’s _straight_ and Sanghyeok is mad at him and thousands of miles away.

XY slaps him on the back, while his teammates call for another toast. He smiles blindly through it until Hyeongseok jabs him in the stomach. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting lucky.” Eojin smiles brightly at the girl. She blushes almost immediately, averting her eyes and hiding her smile behind a hand, and _damn_ , XY’s right, this is easy.

Hyeongseok jabs him again, and Eojin turns to him in irritation. “You have your own responsibilities, just like me,” Hyeongseok says with narrowed eyes. “So I repeat, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Eojin cocks his head to the side, making a show of pouring two shots of baijiu. “I’m having fun,” he says, looking back at the girl as he hands her a cup with a wink and a smile before lifting the other to his lips and downing it in one go.

He sets the cup down, feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to face Hyeongseok again. “You don’t get to go back,” Hyeongseok says, as serious as Eojin’s ever seen him. “You make this choice, you live with it.”

“Yeah.” Eojin pours himself another shot, downs it again even as his vision starts to blur. He looks over at the girl, hoping that she finds broken Mandarin cute, trying his hardest to remember the tips Cheonju had lectured him on about being suave and charming when talking to girls.

Their conversation’s held mostly through smiles and physical gesturing, until Eojin’s drunk-brave enough to duck closer and press a chaste kiss against her lips. It’s not a great angle, and the physical contact is short, but her cheeks tint even further red, and she raises a hand to nervously brush at her bangs with a hand.

It’s both completely like and unlike Sanghyeok’s nervous habit of rubbing at his temples with his palms, and Eojin feels frozen—suddenly sick to his stomach and ready to vomit. “Oh.”

Because even across country borders, Sanghyeok has a hold on him, a grip on his heart that makes breathing feel so damn _heavy_.

“You’re right,” he says in Korean, lurching to his feet. “You’re fucking right, I can’t.” He makes a quick retreat to the bar exit, ignoring the girl’s confused calls after him.

“I’m going to make sure he doesn’t get himself lost,” he dimly hears Hyeongseok say from behind. “We’ll see you back at the house.”

He spends the cab ride back with his head in Hyeongseok’s lap, watching the air spin above him and wondering at how stupid and dumb he is, to be so desperately in love with someone so far out of his league—with someone who deserves better than a coward sick and afraid of trying.

“Thanks,” he says, raising an arm and almost smacking himself in the face. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Hyeongseok pats his head, running a hand through his hair like they’re back at the Samsung house and not in a foreign country they both only just manage to tolerate. “I know,” he says with a note of fondness.

In the end, he wakes up at an ungodly hour of the morning, downing glass after glass of water in the hopes of preventing a hangover. It’s why he sees the girl sneak out of XY’s room, why they share a moment of awkward eye contact before she slips out of the house and Eojin returns to overfilling his bladder.

At least someone came out lucky at the end of the night.

After pissing out what feels like a gallon of water, he makes it back to his bed, absentmindedly swiping to open KakaoTalk on his phone. There are new messages from Sanghyeok, all innocent and friendly and part of their ongoing chronicle of ignoring Sanghyeok's immense disappointment in him as well as the thousand-mile divide between them.

            [3:34] Queue times are ridiculous  
            [3:37] My games are 25min, my waits are 50min??  
            [3:39] People sleep so early  
            [3:40] Including you - -

What is he supposed to say?

_I got drunk and kissed a girl and thought of you_

Or _I could’ve brought her home and fucked her_

Or _I could’ve convinced myself that my infatuation with you was just a phase—_

Or just, _I miss you._

_I love you._

            [6:17]

The cursor blinks in his face, and he feels like shit. He pushes his phone away and stands up, heading straight to the practice room.

Drowning himself in solo queue isn't going to fix his problems, but at least he can pretend they don’t exist. He doesn’t ever end up texting Sanghyeok back, and eventually the messages stop coming.

- 

The only thing Eojin seems to do lately is lose.

He practices 12 hours a day—following a slightly relaxed version of the imprinted schedule of his Samsung days—dominates his lane in games, but can only watch mutely as his teammates overextend and lose the lead he gained step by step.

He practices 15 hours a day—doesn’t take breaks for anything other than eating, sleeping, or shitting—completely shuts down his lane, but his teammates only seem to trip up even more, doing their best to throw at every opportunity.

He practices 20 hours a day—plays through more meals than he eats, doesn’t sleep until his fingers start to numb—and he wins more than just his lane, roaming around to outplay across the map. His teammates seem to throw themselves into their enemies, feeding kill after kill until Eojin collapses under the weight of trying to carry his team on his back, realizes he and Hyeongseok can’t win 2v8, no matter how much he tries.

He and Hyeongseok diligently take Mandarin lessons every day, until he manages to struggle his way through a needlessly complex alphabet and graduates to memorizing stupidly difficult symbols. He wonders at the amount of homonyms, the overreliance on intonation, the essential importance of precise pronunciation.

All the while, his teammates smoke in the practice room, troll around with stupid picks and bans in scrimmages, ditch practices with weak excuses to go fuck fans or hell knows what—Eojin misses the defined structure of Samsung. There, he knew his teammates worked just as hard as he did, were as desperate for the win as he was. He feels the resentment shift from his teammates’ shoulders to his own—why should he try so hard when no one else around seems to care?

He practices 10 hours a day, daring to take hour-long lunch breaks with Hyeongseok outside of the gaming house. They practice their Mandarin at the food stands, managing to find places that haven’t washed all their dishes in oil. When games come around, they still lose, and he doesn’t win lane as much anymore, but he can yell at his teammates in Chinese when they trip over taking objectives.

He practices 6 hours a day, taking Hyeongseok with him on half-days to visit Hyukkyu and Wonseok in Shanghai and the rest of ex-Samsung in Hangzhou. They tease him about assimilating so quickly—of blending in so seamlessly with the rest of the Chinese landscape, of vacationing and relaxing throughout the year. He loses his games, but the losses don’t hit as hard now that he doesn’t place as much of his heart and pride on the line, when he knows he’s slacking on practice.

He stops thinking about Sanghyeok, distracts himself with the frivolities of travel and leisure even as he compulsively stalks the LCK leaderboards. SKT T1 win both the spring and summer seasons, and Eojin feels hollow.

-

He ends up watching Sanghyeok rip the KOO Tigers apart at the World Finals from the grainy feed of his computer screen, gripping the arms of his chair too tight as he obsessively glances at the player cams.

Sanghyeok laughs with his team as they lift their trophy, pure, unadulterated joy on his face as he waves to the crowd.

Eojin feels like poison, a combination of jealousy and happiness twisting his stomach into a nauseous mess. He turns off his monitor and drags Hyeongseok out with him to the nearest bar, downing bottles of soju until he’s so drunk that he doesn’t think twice about taking out his phone and opening KakaoTalk.

He scrolls until he finds Sanghyeok’s name, looking blindly at their last few texts (all the way back from February, when he maybe still had a chance.)

            [02:23] Congratulations, I’m not even surprised.  
            [02:23] You outclass everyone as always  
            [02:23] You’re the reason that makes me wonder why I even try  
            [02:23] I mean, I’ll never reach your level, so what’s the point, right?  
  
            [02:25] I’m sorry  
            [02:25] I don’t mean that  
            [02:25] I just miss you  
            [02:25] And I know it’s been a long time since we last talked, but it was for a good reason, I swear  
            [02:27] I could never find the right time to tell you  
            [02:27] And then you were so disgusted when I left  
            [02:27] Well, now all I do is regret not telling you, and it’s driving me insane  
            [02:32] So you know what, I’m just going to get it off my chest

His phone is suddenly snatched from his hands, with his protests stopped by a palm to his face.

“You’re not,” Hyeongseok says, scrolling through his phone, eyes widening gradually. “Why the fuck would you do this?” He furiously starts tapping at the screen before pocketing Eojin’s phone. “You’re not getting this back tonight.”

Eojin frowns. “But I need it.”

“Not tonight.” Hyeongseok pushes another cup of soju into his hands. “You’ll thank me for this in the morning.”

- 

He wakes up the next morning to the worst hangover he’s ever experienced, face mushed into his pillows and his blankets a tangle around his legs.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, rolling over and reaching out a hand to feel for his glasses. He finds a glass of water and some painkillers instead, and he’s never been more thankful to have been paired with Hyeongseok on their move over to China. He finds his phone sitting neatly by the side as well, and he pulls it to him while trying to will away his headache with pure determination.

The screen unlocks to his KakaoTalk contact page, and his headache only intensifies as dread builds up in his chest.

Shit. He hadn’t—he couldn’t have.

            [02:34] Hey, this is Hyeongseok. Eojin’s just chugged three bottles of soju, so I’m confiscating his phone for the night. Congratulations on your second world championship, your team is an inspiration to us all. I’m sorry this idiot’s tried to ruin your moment.

He closes his eyes and wills up the courage to read Sanghyeok’s reply. At least he had Hyeongseok to intervene; he can only imagine the damage he would’ve caused otherwise.

            [04:10] Uh  
            [04:13] Thanks, I guess?  
            [04:14] And  
            [04:30] Against my better judgment, I’m a little curious about how you wanted to end that

Eojin’s not sure he can trust his eyes at this point. There’s no way that—

And maybe he’s still a little drunk from last night, because his fingers type before he can even think it through:

            [12:32] I love you

He lets his head fall back against the pillows. So much for letting Hyeongseok save him, he has about as much self-preservation sober as he did when drunk—but maybe it’s better that he does this. His chest feels that much lighter, lungs no longer strangled by the words that he could never force through his throat.

            [12:40] You know, I sort of expected it, but I still can't believe you  
            [12:45] You're ridiculous  
            [12:47] You’re actually doing this now, you selfish piece of shit  
            [12:55] Fuck you, when do you come back

And Eojin _is_ being unfair and unrealistic, but talking to Sanghyeok is easily becoming one of the brighter moments of his year so far.

            [12:57] Break starts next week

            [13:05] I’ll see you then.

Never mind the fact that Eojin doesn't even _live_ in Seoul anymore—his hometown is hours away— but it's more than Eojin expected from his stupidly rash confession.

-

He and Hyeongseok leave M3 almost silently, no big headlines or splashy announcements unlike the heyday made of their joining. They pack their bags together, Hyeongseok preparing for his move to RNG and Eojin for home, ready to brave the unknown of free agency. It makes sense for Hyeongseok to have a plan; he still has drive, still holds the pride and ambition fitting of a world champion, and Eojin wishes him well with Sehyeong.

Eojin, on the other hand, just feels tired and empty. He’s sick of feeling jealous, of feeling so underserving for the things he’s achieved, of wanting things that seem so out of his reach. So he flies home to Korea without a plan for the future more complex than _find a job_.

-

He takes the three-hour train ride to Seoul, wonders if one of his old teammates wouldn’t mind letting him couch-surf for the night if things with Sanghyeok end badly. He texts Hyukkyu just in case, because, odds are, he’ll end up with his ass on the curb.

The train station is crowded when he finally makes it in, but he still manages to spot Sanghyeok, and the familiarity of him is like a crushing blow to his lungs. Sanghyeok’s grown since he’s last seen him, slightly taller and lankier, with his hair smoothed down from the broccoli haircut that made such a splash at Worlds.

"You played amazingly," he says. "I watched all your games."

Sanghyeok narrows his eyes. "Too bad you couldn't be there in person." It's a hit straight to the gut, but Eojin swallows it along with the rest of his pride. "I hope your retirement in China's been fun."

Eojin winces. "Yeah," he says. "I've underperformed, I get it."

"Yeah, you have." Sanghyeok shrugs. “But I think I’m getting used to being disappointed by you.”

It’s another unfair blow, low and dirty and so utterly passive aggressive it almost hurts, but Eojin takes it along with the rest. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was an idiot.”

“You are still,” Sanghyeok corrects, but his tone softens. “But at least you realize that.”

Eojin sighs. “Let me make it up to you? I’ll buy you anything you want today—we can do whatever you want.”

Sanghyeok seems to brighten at that, at least. "A hotel room, then.”

And there must be something wrong with his hearing, because, just, “What?”

“You heard me,” Sanghyeok says. “A hotel room.”

-

Sanghyeok chooses one of the fancy ones that cost exorbitant amounts of money, but Eojin pays upfront without a word of complaint. He’s still not completely sure Sanghyeok isn’t planning his murder or something equally vengeful that can only be done in private, but he’ll face his death with some courage, at least.

They make it to the room in one piece, and Eojin finds himself shoved onto the bed while Sanghyeok crawls on top. They kiss the same as he remembers, all enthusiasm with no finesse, and he somehow finds himself naked staring up at Sanghyeok with no idea what he’s doing. Sanghyeok’s dick is right against his ass and he is weirdly okay with that fact.

"You know," Sanghyeok says casually. "You've gotten much more handsome in China."

Eojin grasps at the sheets, gasping as Sanghyeok pushes into him. "Please," he says, voice edging into the realm of begging as Sanghyeok palms his dick. "Not right now.”

Sanghyeok just lazily thumbs the head of his dick in response, matching the agonizingly slow pace of the evening. “But honestly,” he says. “You’ve finally managed a proper haircut, you’re eating better, dressing better—”

Eojin grits his teeth. “I got skinnier, I get it,” he says. It’s one of the things his parents were so damn _amazed_ by and something he’d really rather not think about while having sex, especially for his _first_ time. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

Sanghyeok proceeds to do everything _but_ that, leaning forward to press a messy kiss against Eojin's lips. "It's not just that," he says, face close enough so Eojin can see the flush across his cheeks, the sweat beading down his forehead. "You've matured.”

"What does that—” Eojin's voice breaks off as Sanghyeok finally, _finally_ starts stroking his dick in earnest, gasping, "Fuck."

Sanghyeok smiles cheekily, the one he gets when he thinks he’s said something particularly clever. “You’re so easy,” he says, leaning in for another kiss as his hips start moving again. “I’ve missed you.”

Eojin doesn’t focus on that—instead focuses on the hand around his dick, on the tingling feeling he gets when Sanghyeok pushes in _just_ right, on the stupidly concentrated look on Sanghyeok’s face, on anything but the way he has one leg thrown around Sanghyeok’s back to keep them locked tight, on the stranglehold grip he has on the covers.

-

Newbee eventually announces their buy-out of QG, and they offer Eojin a position. He's not even a starter, just a substitute and player for their reserve team, but it’s easy money and he’s content enough, even when he’ll play second fiddle to a player he would've dismissed two years ago.

He still has a few weeks of break left and spends it juggling his family responsibilities while making trips out to Seoul to visit old Samsung friends and Sanghyeok. They have a little more freedom now during the off-season, but they still find themselves in PC Bangs playing League more often than not.

“I’m joining QG,” he says, because the news will eventually come out and he’d rather face Sanghyeok’s reaction head-on.

“I was hoping you’d come back to Korea,” Sanghyeok says, looking away from his monitor, but he shrugs. “And don’t they already have a mid?”

“I’m the sub,” Eojin says, and the words burn his tongue even as he says them.

"And to think I didn’t believe you could fall any farther, " Sanghyeok says, but it’s light-hearted, a try for a joke. “Why don’t you come sub for me instead?”

“I’m already deep enough in your shadow.” Eojin smiles wanly. “And anyway, I’ll get to bond with Jaehyeon on the bench. We’ll gossip about you.”

“Replacing me with a jungler, how insulting,” Sanghyeok says, but with a sudden smile, “Let’s duo. I’ll support, you adc.”

Eojin blinks, but he accepts the invitation that pops up on his client. “Okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hard carry.” The queue pops up soon enough, and Sanghyeok gleefully locks in Blitzcrank for himself, manhandling Eojin’s mouse to select Miss Fortune. “Because your mechanics are trash,” he says kindly.

Eojin has no idea how Sanghyeok can look so happy playing solo queue—it’s been years since he’s seen the ladder as anything but a marathon to run and train on—especially during the off-season, where the patches are so unbalanced and ranks are at their least important.

“I won't lie, I'm a little disappointed," Sanghyeok says as the game starts up. "But not enough that you have to disappear off the face of the planet for a year out of some misplaced guilt, okay?"

“Right,” he says, watches as Sanghyeok immediately starts spamming his dance in the middle of lane while the enemy adc and support thread in and out of the bushes. Sanghyeok only stops the BM when he hooks the adc without any warning, prompting Eojin out of his funk to follow-up on damage, scoring them first blood out of the blue.

“There we go,” Sanghyeok says. “Just follow my engages and we’ll win, see?”

He laughs; it’s the first time in years where League has been anything but stressful, where his happiness is based off something other than winning his games. He’s still getting over the massive tilt-fest of a year—of a _life_ —he’s had, where he’s tired of losing, tired of caring for a game that he’s not sure he’s even good at anymore.

But this is a refreshing change of pace—watching Sanghyeok laugh as they die from a 2v4 dive in the bottom lane, the way he turns to Eojin with a bright smile, “Next time we’ll kill them all.”

“Of course,” he says. “Just make sure you don’t die.”

Sanghyeok frowns at him, narrowing his eyes. “Whoever gets the lower KDA pays for dinner.”

And it’s so much like the first time they played together that Eojin can’t help but smile and agree. He watches as Sanghyeok gets picked off in the jungle while placing wards. “I hope you like sushi.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this word vomit of my feelings for dade with some added Faker.
> 
> For E & A who would've rather had me finish any of the other fics in my arsenal and get this shit instead. Thank you for your patience, I'll get to never working on that Rekkles/Deft/imp ot3 fic now.
> 
> Title taken from Godspeed You ft. Ozark Henry by Francesco Rossi (thank you spotify for making my naming needs so much easier)


End file.
